


When You Feel Broken

by spun809



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Awareness, depressed!reader, sad start happy ending, self-care, spring time depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 03:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spun809/pseuds/spun809
Summary: You have been feeling depressed but Dean breaks through to you.





	When You Feel Broken

It was a bright spring day, the dappled sunlight full across your face as you sat and waited under the shade of a giant oak tree, leaning against the hood of the impala. Your face was locked in a heavy frown, not even working the case was able to brighten the dark mood that had you locked deep inside yourself. You tapped your fingers restlessly against the dark black paint, feeling the metal heating up from the warmth of the sun and pushing itself into your skin. All that was on your mind was a plea that the boys would hurry up so you could get back to the bunker and the warmth of your bed. 

“That took you long enough,” your frown deepened as the Winchester’s strode up to their ride, “so did you find out anything, or was this just another giant waste of time?”

Dean raised an eyebrow at your pissy attitude, but he stayed silent which given your mood was probably for the best. 

On the other hand, the younger brother walked straight up to where you were half-standing half-leaning and spoke down to you from his giant height. 

“Dude, you have been acting like this for weeks, what is going on?”

“Nothing.” You didn’t have to explain yourself to them, not that you really could even if you had wanted to, these moods were inexplicable. 

The older Winchester pretended like he couldn’t hear the argument breaking out between you and his little brother. Dean was getting in behind the wheel of the impala, and instead of fighting with Sam, you swiftly walked over to the open door of the driver's seat. 

“Move over, it’s my turn to drive.” 

“Um...no.” Dean might be weary of you but he loved his car so much it was like he thought your sour mood was going to be the cause of its destruction. 

You shoved his shoulder, trying to get him to scoot over, certain that this was an argument you were going to win. You might not be able to fully convince Sam that this strange bout of sadness would pass eventually, but you knew for a fact that you would never hurt Baby. Sure enough, after a brief roll of his eyes, he moved over to the front passenger seat, awkwardly avoiding the little hump in the footwell where the gear shift was, and pressing his body into the door. Even though there was plenty of space between the two seats. 

Turning the key in the ignition you listened as the engine roared to life, watching this car tear down the highway, as the speedometer climbed higher and higher was one of the only breaks you got from the swirling black pit of despair that was growing in strength within you. 

Keeping your grip tight on the wheel, you watched as trees zipped past in a whir of green and brown, you could see pink and white blossoms growing wild against the edge of the dusty back road, and you wanted badly to lose yourself within the beautiful landscape. Instead, you were trapped inside of the car, inside of your mind, beaten down by the weight of the depression that gripped you from time to time. It had started when you were young. 

Your father had been a hunter and he had lectured you endlessly about the pitfalls that would come with giving into the dark emotions, “that’s how someone in our line of work gets killed,” he would say frequently. However, you couldn’t control it and no matter how much you tried to ignore it, it seemed to always flair up as the weather shifted. 

Hours passed by with no indication other than a slight dimming of the spring sunshine and a change in the music that Dean kept playing continuously in the background, you didn’t know why but as it got later he always switched over to slower love ballads, normally it was a trait that always endeared him to you but today it was making you grit your teeth and clench your fist at your side. 

“You need anything for the bunker, we should grab it now since we’re getting close.” 

“I don’t need a geography lesson, Sam, I know where we live,” you muttered but you realized while you spoke that you thought you actually could use a few things and didn’t comment again when he scoffed as you pulled the car into the next Gas n’ Sip. 

There were only a few things that ever helped when you felt like this and you forced yourself to grab them all, a fashion magazine, some chips, a candy bar and one of those romance novels that you could only find in gas stations, reading them was your guilty pleasure. As you brought the paper sack full of goodies back out to the car, you handed it to Dean, so you had your hands free to begin the short end of your journey back home. You ignored the way he peered inside, taking note of its content, you were strangely embarrassed but you forced down the heat that crawled up into your cheeks to vanish so that he couldn’t sense your discomfort. 

Sam seemed to vanish the minute the car pulled into the garage. You barely stopped to wonder just how he had gotten inside and away from you and his brother so quickly because the shorter blond haired Winchester was soon cornering you. 

“Can we talk?” Dean was trying to move his head down lower so he could look you in the eyes, an attempt to show how serious he was, you figured. 

You sighed, “ok.” 

He handed you the bag of your earlier purchases, “I know what’s going on, and I just want you to know I am here for you, ok? You don’t ever have to deal with this stuff by yourself.” 

He squished the bag between the two of your bodies as he wrapped you in a tight hug. You could smell him, the spicy musk of his cologne, and the deep rich earth of the leather jacket he was wearing. For a second you let yourself relax into the warmth of human touch. It wasn’t like your sadness vanished but the weight lifted just enough you felt like you could speak about it without being crushed. 

“I just get sad, so sad I feel like I’m dying,” you spoke into his chest and you weren’t positive if he was able to understand your muffled words but continued, “sometimes I just have to do certain things to help pull me out of that dark place but it isn’t easy.” 

Clearly, he had gotten the gist of what you had said, “what do you need from me?” He asked pulling you out at arm's length to show you the sincerity etched in his face. 

You had never really considered how someone else could help you, but right then you could picture what would make you feel happier. You and Dean laying together on your bed, watching old movies from when you were a kid, eating popcorn and being cuddled next to his large form under the covers. 

“I have a few ideas,” and you cracked the first smile that had crossed your face in weeks. 

Apparently, all you needed was to be back at home and be in bed. You watched as Dean kicked off his boots and crossed his hands behind his head, leaning on his interlaced palms like a make-shift pillow. As you stood there watching him nestle down against your giant comforter, you felt yourself relaxing a little. You breathing deepened and a warmth was seeping throughout your body. It was only a slight change from earlier but it was enough for now. You settled yourself beside him. Feeling his own body heat mingling with yours and when one of his arms reached out behind your head to drape over your shoulder, you buried your face against his chest and started to cry. 

That was what you needed, release and to be near someone who loved you.


End file.
